Rewards and Fairies

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'Ra-ather,' said Dan, unclamping the schooner from the vice.
'And look how I've cut myself with the small gouge.'

'Ye-es. You want a lump o' cobwebs to that,' said Mr
Springett. 'Oh, I see you've put it on already. That's right, Mus'
Dan.'

King Henry VII and the Shipwrights

Harry our King in England from London town is gone,
And comen to Hamull on the Hoke in the countie of Suthampton.
For there lay the MARY OF THE TOWER, his ship of war so strong,
And he would discover, certaynely, if his shipwrights did him wrong.

He told not none of his setting forth, nor yet where he would go
(But only my Lord of Arundel), and meanly did he show,
In an old jerkin and patched hose that no man might him mark;
With his frieze hood and cloak about, he looked like any clerk.
He was at Hamull on the Hoke about the hour of the tide,
And saw the MARY haled into dock, the winter to abide,
With all her tackle and habiliments which are the King his own;
But then ran on his false shipwrights and stripped her to the bone.

They heaved the main-mast overboard, that was of a trusty tree,
And they wrote down it was spent and lost by force of weather at sea.
But they sawen it into planks and strakes as far as it might go,
To maken beds for their own wives and little children also.

There was a knave called Slingawai, he crope beneath the deck,
Crying: 'Good felawes, come and see! The ship is nigh a wreck!
For the storm that took our tall main-mast, it blew so fierce and fell,
Alack! it hath taken the kettles and pans, and this brass pott as well!'

With that he set the pott on his head and hied him up the hatch,
While all the shipwrights ran below to find what they might snatch;
All except Bob Brygandyne and he was a yeoman good,
He caught Slingawai round the waist and threw him on to the mud.

'I have taken plank and rope and nail, without the King his leave,
After the custom of Portesmouth, but I will not suffer a thief.
Nay, never lift up thy hand at me! There's no clean hands in the trade.
Steal in measure,' quo' Brygandyne. 'There's measure in all things made!'

'Gramercy, yeoman!' said our King. 'Thy counsel liketh me.'
And he pulled a whistle out of his neck and whistled whistles three.
Then came my Lord of Arundel pricking across the down,
And behind him the Mayor and Burgesses of merry Suthampton town.

They drew the naughty shipwrights up, with the kettles in their hands,
And bound them round the forecastle to wait the King's commands.
But 'Since ye have made your beds,' said the King, 'ye needs must lie
thereon.
For the sake of your wives and little ones - felawes, get you gone!'

When they had beaten Slingawai, out of his own lips,
Our King appointed Brygandyne to be Clerk of all his ships.
'Nay, never lift up thy hands to me - there's no clean hands in the trade.
But steal in measure,'said Harry our King. 'There's measure in all things
made!'

God speed the 'Mary of the Tower,' the 'Sovereign' and 'Grace Dieu,'
The 'Sweepstakes' and the 'Mary Fortune,' and the 'Henry of Bristol' too!
All tall ships that sail on the sea, or in our harbours stand,
That they may keep measure with Harry our King and peace in Engeland!

MARKLAKE WITCHES

The Way Through the Woods

They shut the road through the woods
Seventy years ago.
Weather and rain have undone it again,
And now you would never know
There was once a road through the woods
Before they planted the trees.
It is underneath the coppice and heath,
And the thin anemones.
Only the keeper sees
That, where the ring-dove broods,
And the badgers roll at ease,
There was once a road through the woods.

Yet, if you enter the woods
Of a summer evening late,
When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools
Where the otter whistles his mate
(They fear not men in the woods
Because they see so few),
You will hear the beat of a horse's feet
And the swish of a skirt in the dew,
Steadily cantering through
The misty solitudes,
As though they perfectly knew
The old lost road through the woods ...
But there is no road through the woods!

Marklake Witches

When Dan took up boat-building, Una coaxed Mrs Vincey, the
farmer's wife at Little Lindens, to teach her to milk. Mrs Vincey
milks in the pasture in summer, which is different from milking
in the shed, because the cows are not tied up, and until they know
you they will not stand still. After three weeks Una could milk
Red Cow or Kitty Shorthorn quite dry, without her wrists
aching, and then she allowed Dan to look. But milking did not
amuse him, and it was pleasanter for Una to be alone in the quiet
pastures with quiet-spoken Mrs Vincey. So, evening after evening,
she slipped across to Little Lindens, took her stool from the
fern-clump beside the fallen oak, and went to work, her pail
between her knees, and her head pressed hard into the cow's
flank. As often as not, Mrs Vincey would be milking cross Pansy
at the other end of the pasture, and would not come near till it was
time to strain and pour off.

Once, in the middle of a milking, Kitty Shorthorn boxed Una's
ear with her tail.

'You old pig!' said Una, nearly crying, for a cow's tail can hurt.

'Why didn't you tie it down, child?' said a voice behind her.

'I meant to, but the flies are so bad I let her off - and this is what
she's done!' Una looked round, expecting Puck, and saw a curly-
haired girl, not much taller than herself, but older, dressed in a
curious high-waisted, lavender-coloured riding-habit, with a
high hunched collar and a deep cape and a belt fastened with a steel
clasp. She wore a yellow velvet cap and tan gauntlets, and carried
a real hunting-crop. Her cheeks were pale except for two pretty
pink patches in the middle, and she talked with little gasps at the
end of her sentences, as though she had been running.

'You don't milk so badly, child,' she said, and when she smiled
her teeth showed small and even and pearly.

'Can you milk?' Una asked, and then flushed, for she heard
Puck's chuckle.

He stepped out of the fern and sat down, holding Kitty Short-
horn's tail. 'There isn't much,' he said, 'that Miss Philadelphia
doesn't know about milk - or, for that matter, butter and eggs.
She's a great housewife.'

'Oh,' said Una. 'I'm sorry I can't shake hands. Mine are all
milky; but Mrs Vincey is going to teach me butter-making this summer.'
'Ah! I'm going to London this summer,' the girl said, 'to my
aunt in Bloomsbury.' She coughed as she began to hum, '"Oh,
what a town! What a wonderful metropolis!"

'You've got a cold,' said Una.

'No. Only my stupid cough. But it's vastly better than it was
last winter. It will disappear in London air. Every one says so.
D'you like doctors, child?'

'I don't know any,' Una replied. 'But I'm sure I shouldn't.'

'Think yourself lucky, child. I beg your pardon,' the girl
laughed, for Una frowned.

'I'm not a child, and my name's Una,'she said.

'Mine's Philadelphia. But everybody except Rene calls me Phil.
I'm Squire Bucksteed's daughter - over at Marklake yonder.' She
jerked her little round chin towards the south behind Dallington.
'Sure-ly you know Marklake?'

'We went a picnic to Marklake Green once,' said Una. 'It's
awfully pretty. I like all those funny little roads that don't lead
anywhere.'

'They lead over our land,' said Philadelphia stiffly, 'and the
coach road is only four miles away. One can go anywhere from
the Green. I went to the Assize Ball at Lewes last year.' She spun
round and took a few dancing steps, but stopped with her hand to
her side.

'It gives me a stitch,' she explained. 'No odds. 'Twill go away
in London air. That's the latest French step, child. Rene taught it
me. D'you hate the French, chi - Una?'

'Well, I hate French, of course, but I don't mind Ma'm'selle.
She's rather decent. Is Rene your French governess?'

Philadelphia laughed till she caught her breath again.

'Oh no! Rene's a French prisoner - on parole. That means he's
promised not to escape till he has been properly exchanged for an
Englishman. He's only a doctor, so I hope they won't think him
worth exchanging. My uncle captured him last year in the
FERDINAND privateer, off Belle Isle, and he cured my uncle of a
r-r-raging toothache. Of course, after that we couldn't let him lie
among the common French prisoners at Rye, and so he stays with
us. He's of very old family - a Breton, which is nearly next door
to being a true Briton, my father says - and he wears his hair
clubbed - not powdered. Much more becoming, don't you think?'

'I don't know what you're -' Una began, but Puck, the other
side of the pail, winked, and she went on with her milking.
'He's going to be a great French physician when the war is over.
He makes me bobbins for my lace-pillow now - he's very clever
with his hands; but he'd doctor our people on the Green if they
would let him. Only our Doctor - Doctor Break - says he's an
emp - or imp something - worse than imposter. But my Nurse
says -'

'Nurse! You're ever so old. What have you got a nurse for?'
Una finished milking, and turned round on her stool as Kitty
Shorthorn grazed off.

'Because I can't get rid of her. Old Cissie nursed my mother,
and she says she'll nurse me till she dies. The idea! She never lets
me alone. She thinks I'm delicate. She has grown infirm in her
understanding, you know. Mad - quite mad, poor Cissie!'

'Really mad?' said Una. 'Or just silly?'

'Crazy, I should say - from the things she does. Her devotion to
me is terribly embarrassing. You know I have all the keys of the
Hall except the brewery and the tenants' kitchen. I give out all
stores and the linen and plate.'

'How jolly! I love store-rooms and giving out things.'

Ah, it's a great responsibility, you'll find, when you come to
my age. Last year Dad said I was fatiguing myself with my duties,
and he actually wanted me to give up the keys to old Amoore, our
housekeeper. I wouldn't. I hate her. I said, "No, sir. I am Mistress
of Marklake Hall just as long as I live, because I'm never going to
be married, and I shall give out stores and linen till I die!"

And what did your father say?'

'Oh, I threatened to pin a dishclout to his coat-tail. He ran
away. Every one's afraid of Dad, except me.' Philadelphia
stamped her foot. 'The idea! If I can't make my own father happy
in his own house, I'd like to meet the woman that can, and - and -
I'd have the living hide off her!'

She cut with her long-thonged whip. It cracked like a pistol-
shot across the still pasture. Kitty Shorthorn threw up her head
and trotted away.

'I beg your pardon,' Philadelphia said; 'but it makes me furious.
Don't you hate those ridiculous old quizzes with their feathers
and fronts, who come to dinner and call you "child" in your own
chair at your own table?'

'I don't always come to dinner , said Una, 'but I hate being
called "child." Please tell me about store-rooms and giving out things.'

Ah, it's a great responsibility - particularly with that old cat
Amoore looking at the lists over your shoulder. And such a
shocking thing happened last summer! Poor crazy Cissie, my
Nurse that I was telling you of, she took three solid silver
tablespoons.'

'Took! But isn't that stealing?' Una cried.

'Hsh!' said Philadelphia, looking round at Puck. 'All I say is she
took them without my leave. I made it right afterwards. So, as
Dad says - and he's a magistrate-, it wasn't a legal offence; it was
only compounding a felony.

'It sounds awful,' said Una.

'It was. My dear, I was furious! I had had the keys for ten
months, and I'd never lost anything before. I said nothing at first,
because a big house offers so many chances of things being
mislaid, and coming to hand later. "Fetching up in the lee-
scuppers," my uncle calls it. But next week I spoke to old Cissie
about it when she was doing my hair at night, and she said I
wasn't to worry my heart for trifles!'

'Isn't it like 'em?' Una burst out. 'They see you're worried over

something that really matters, and they say, "Don't worry"; as if
that did any good!'

'I quite agree with you, my dear; quite agree with you! I told
Ciss the spoons were solid silver, and worth forty shillings, so if
the thief were found, he'd be tried for his life.'
'Hanged, do you mean?'Una said.

'They ought to be; but Dad says no jury will hang a man
nowadays for a forty-shilling theft. They transport 'em into penal
servitude at the uttermost ends of the earth beyond the seas, for
the term of their natural life. I told Cissie that, and I saw her
tremble in my mirror. Then she cried, and caught hold of my
knees, and I couldn't for my life understand what it was all about,
- she cried so. Can you guess, my dear, what that poor crazy thing
had done? It was midnight before I pieced it together. She had
given the spoons to Jerry Gamm, the Witchmaster on the Green,
so that he might put a charm on me! Me!'

'Put a charm on you? Why?'

'That's what I asked; and then I saw how mad poor Cissie was!
You know this stupid little cough of mine? It will disappear as
soon as I go to London. She was troubled about that, and about
my being so thin, and she told me Jerry had promised her, if she
would bring him three silver spoons, that he'd charm my cough
away and make me plump - "flesh up," she said. I couldn't help
laughing; but it was a terrible night! I had to put Cissie into my
own bed, and stroke her hand till she cried herself to sleep. What
else could I have done? When she woke, and I coughed - I suppose
I can cough in my own room if I please - she said that she'd killed
me, and asked me to have her hanged at Lewes sooner than send
her to the uttermost ends of the earth away from me.'

'How awful! What did you do, Phil?'

'Do? I rode off at five in the morning to talk to Master Jerry,
with a new lash on my whip. Oh, I was furious! Witchmaster or no
Witchmaster, I meant to -'

Ah! what's a Witchmaster?'

'A master of witches, of course. I don't believe there are
witches; but people say every village has a few, and Jerry was the
master of all ours at Marklake. He has been a smuggler, and a
man-of-war's man, and now he pretends to be a carpenter and
joiner - he can make almost anything - but he really is a white
wizard. He cures people by herbs and charms. He can cure them
after Doctor Break has given them up, and that's why Doctor
Break hates him so. He used to make me toy carts, and charm off
my warts when I was a child.' Philadelphia spread out her hands
with the delicate shiny little nails. 'It isn't counted lucky to cross
him. He has his ways of getting even with you, they say. But I
wasn't afraid of Jerry! I saw him working in his garden, and I
leaned out of my saddle and double-thonged him between the
shoulders, over the hedge. Well, my dear, for the first time since
Dad gave him to me, my Troubadour (I wish you could see the
sweet creature!) shied across the road, and I spilled out into the
hedge-top. Most undignified! Jerry pulled me through to his side
and brushed the leaves off me. I was horribly pricked, but I didn't
care. "Now, Jerry," I said, "I'm going to take the hide off you
first, and send you to Lewes afterwards. You well know why."

'"Oh!" he said, and he sat down among his bee-hives. "Then I
reckon you've come about old Cissie's business, my dear." "I
reckon I justabout have," I said. "Stand away from these hives. I
can't get at you there." "That's why I be where I be," he said. "If
you'll excuse me, Miss Phil, I don't hold with bein' flogged
before breakfast, at my time o' life." He's a huge big man, but he
looked so comical squatting among the hives that - I know I
oughtn't to - I laughed, and he laughed. I always laugh at the
wrong time. But I soon recovered my dignity, and I said, "Then
give me back what you made poor Cissie steal!"

'"Your pore Cissie," he said. "She's a hatful o' trouble. But
you shall have 'em, Miss Phil. They're all ready put by for you."
And, would you believe it, the old sinner pulled my three silver
spoons out of his dirty pocket, and polished them on his cuff.
"Here they be," he says, and he gave them to me, just as cool as
though I'd come to have my warts charmed. That's the worst of
people having known you when you were young. But I preserved
my composure. "Jerry," I said, "what in the world are we to do?
If you'd been caught with these things on you, you'd have been
hanged."

'"I know it," he said. "But they're yours now."

'"But you made my Cissie steal them," I said.

'"That I didn't," he said. "Your Cissie, she was pickin' at me
an' tarrifyin' me all the long day an' every day for weeks, to put a
charm on you, Miss Phil, an' take away your little spitty cough."

'"Yes. I knew that, Jerry, and to make me flesh-up!" I said.
"I'm much obliged to you, but I'm not one of your pigs!"

'"Ah! I reckon she've been talking to you, then," he said.
"Yes, she give me no peace, and bein' tarrified - for I don't hold
with old women - I laid a task on her which I thought 'ud silence
her. I never reckoned the old scrattle 'ud risk her neckbone at
Lewes Assizes for your sake, Miss Phil. But she did. She up an'
stole, I tell ye, as cheerful as a tinker. You might ha' knocked me
down with any one of them liddle spoons when she brung 'em in
her apron."

'"Do you mean to say, then, that you did it to try my poor
Cissie?" I screamed at him.

'"What else for, dearie?" he said. "I don't stand in need of
hedge-stealings. I'm a freeholder, with money in the bank; and
now I won't trust women no more! Silly old besom! I do beleft
she'd ha' stole the Squire's big fob-watch, if I'd required her."

'"Then you're a wicked, wicked old man," I said, and I was so
angry that I couldn't help crying, and of course that made me cough.

'Jerry was in a fearful taking. He picked me up and carried me
into his cottage - it's full of foreign curiosities - and he got me
something to eat and drink, and he said he'd be hanged by the
neck any day if it pleased me. He said he'd even tell old Cissie he
was sorry. That's a great comedown for a Witchmaster, you
know.

'I was ashamed of myself for being so silly, and I dabbed my
eyes and said, "The least you can do now is to give poor Ciss
some sort of a charm for me."

'"Yes, that's only fair dealings," he said. "You know the
names of the Twelve Apostles, dearie? You say them names, one
by one, before your open window, rain or storm, wet or shine,
five times a day fasting. But mind you, 'twixt every name you
draw in your breath through your nose, right down to your
pretty liddle toes, as long and as deep as you can, and let it out
slow through your pretty liddle mouth. There's virtue for your
cough in those names spoke that way. And I'll give you something
you can see, moreover. Here's a stick of maple, which is the
warmest tree in the wood."'
'That's true,' Una interrupted. 'You can feel it almost as warm
as yourself when you touch it.'

'"It's cut one inch long for your every year," Jerry said.
"That's sixteen inches. You set it in your window so that it holds
up the sash, and thus you keep it, rain or shine, or wet or fine, day
and night. I've said words over it which will have virtue on your
complaints."

"I haven't any complaints, Jerry," I said. "It's only to please
Cissie."

'"I know that as well as you do, dearie," he said. And - and
that was all that came of my going to give him a flogging. I
wonder whether he made poor Troubadour shy when I lashed at
him? Jerry has his ways of getting even with people.'

'I wonder,' said Una. 'Well, did you try the charm? Did it work?'

'What nonsense! I told Rene about it, of course, because he's a
doctor. He's going to be a most famous doctor. That's why our
doctor hates him. Rene said, "Oho! Your Master Gamm, he is
worth knowing," and he put up his eyebrows -like this. He made
joke of it all. He can see my window from the carpenter's shed,
where he works, and if ever the maple stick fell down, he
pretended to be in a fearful taking till I propped the window up
again. He used to ask me whether I had said my Apostles
properly, and how I took my deep breaths. Oh yes, and the next
day, though he had been there ever so many times before, he put
on his new hat and paid Jerry Gamm a visit of state - as a
fellow-physician. Jerry never guessed Rene was making fun of
him, and so he told Rene about the sick people in the village, and
how he cured them with herbs after Doctor Break had given them
up. Jerry could talk smugglers' French, of course, and I had
taught Rene plenty of English, if only he wasn't so shy. They
called each other Monsieur Gamm and Mosheur Lanark, just like
gentlemen. I suppose it amused poor Rene. He hasn't much to do,
except to fiddle about in the carpenter's shop. He's like all the
French prisoners - always making knickknacks; and Jerry had a
little lathe at his cottage, and so - and so - Rene took to being with
Jerry much more than I approved of. The Hall is so big and empty
when Dad's away, and I will not sit with old Amoore -she talks so
horridly about every one - specially about Rene.

'I was rude to Rene, I'm afraid; but I was properly served out
for it. One always is. You see, Dad went down to Hastings to pay
his respects to the General who commanded the brigade there,
and to bring him to the Hall afterwards. Dad told me he was a
very brave soldier from India - he was Colonel of Dad's Regiment,
the Thirty-third Foot, after Dad left the Army, and then he
changed his name from Wesley to Wellesley, or else the other way
about; and Dad said I was to get out all the silver for him, and I
knew that meant a big dinner. So I sent down to the sea for early
mackerel, and had such a morning in the kitchen and the store-
rooms. Old Amoore nearly cried.

'However, my dear, I made all my preparations in ample time,
but the fish didn't arrive - it never does - and I wanted Rene to
ride to Pevensey and bring it himself. He had gone over to Jerry,
of course, as he always used, unless I requested his presence
beforehand. I can't send for Rene every time I want him. He
should be there. Now, don't you ever do what I did, child,
because it's in the highest degree unladylike; but - but one of our
Woods runs up to Jerry's garden, and if you climb - it's ungenteel,
but I can climb like a kitten -there's an old hollow oak just above
the pigsty where you can hear and see everything below. Truthfully,
I only went to tell Rene about the mackerel, but I saw him
and Jerry sitting on the seat playing with wooden toy trumpets.
So I slipped into the hollow, and choked down my cough, and
listened. Rene had never shown me any of these trumpets.'

'Trumpets? Aren't you too old for trumpets?' said Una.

'They weren't real trumpets, because Jerry opened his short-
collar, and Rene put one end of his trumpet against Jerry's chest,
and put his ear to the other. Then Jerry put his trumpet against
Rene's chest, and listened while Rene breathed and coughed. I
was afraid I would cough too.

'"This hollywood one is the best," said Jerry. "'Tis won'erful
like hearin' a man's soul whisperin' in his innards; but unless I've a
buzzin' in my ears, Mosheur Lanark, you make much about the
same kind o' noises as old Gaffer Macklin - but not quite so loud
as young Copper. It sounds like breakers on a reef - a long way
off. Comprenny?"

'"Perfectly," said Rene. "I drive on the breakers. But before I
strike, I shall save hundreds, thousands, millions perhaps, by my
little trumpets. Now tell me what sounds the old Gaffer Macklin
have made in his chest, and what the young Copper also."

'Jerry talked for nearly a quarter of an hour about sick people in
the village, while Rene asked questions. Then he sighed, and said,
"You explain very well, Monsieur Gamm, but if only I had your
opportunities to listen for myself! Do you think these poor people
would let me listen to them through my trumpet - for a little
money? No?" - Rene's as poor as a church mouse.

'"They'd kill you, Mosheur. It's all I can do to coax 'em to
abide it, and I'm Jerry Gamm," said Jerry. He's very proud of his
attainments.

'"Then these poor people are alarmed - No?" said Rene.

'"They've had it in at me for some time back because o' my
tryin' your trumpets on their sick; and I reckon by the talk at the
alehouse they won't stand much more. Tom Dunch an' some of
his kidney was drinkin' themselves riot-ripe when I passed along
after noon. Charms an' mutterin's an' bits o' red wool an' black
hens is in the way o' nature to these fools, Mosheur; but anything
likely to do 'em real service is devil's work by their estimation. If I
was you, I'd go home before they come." Jerry spoke quite
quietly, and Rene shrugged his shoulders.

'"I am prisoner on parole, Monsieur Gamm," he said. "I have
no home."

'Now that was unkind of Rene. He's often told me that he
looked on England as his home. I suppose it's French politeness.

'"Then we'll talk o' something that matters," said Jerry. "Not
to name no names, Mosheur Lanark, what might be your own
opinion o' some one who ain't old Gaffer Macklin nor young
Copper? Is that person better or worse?"

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